


hail mary for lapsed catholics

by orphan_account



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Bipolar Disorder, Both Parties are Consenting, Dialogue Similar to Dubious Consent, Guilt, Multi, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4618974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before he was Daredevil, sometimes Matt would tame his guilt, mental illness, and self-hatred by having violent and unsafe sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hail mary for lapsed catholics

**Author's Note:**

> This is also a kink meme fill but as it will be slightly longer than a minifill I've decided to post it separately. Regarding the dubious consent - to egg on his violent partner, Matt talks as if he doesn't want the sex that he is having at all. Both parties are consenting, but the dialogue may be a content warning for someone who is sensitive to that sort of thing.

The place smelled like gin and sweat when he walked in, a dive bar with a fast pass for getting wasted. In the back, he smelled lone beer drinkers (Michelob Ultra, weak), but those weren’t his targets. He wanted the rough ones, four shots in and hungry for the promise of a naked body underneath them. Someone that wouldn’t take no for an answer, even if Matt wanted him to. Luckily, those people were in the majority tonight.

Matt’s skin hummed off key as he passed through the crowd, aware of every dust mote, every breath. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest and spreading the vibration to his throat and his hands. The sweat in the bar was laced with arousal. Loud house music mingled with shouted conversations and threatened to overwhelm him. Somehow, a shot ended up in his hand and then another. Soon he was running on autopilot, numb to everything but his mission – get fucked, get hurt, and pay for hearing the cries of helpless people and doing nothing, _nothing_ to stop it.

Outside of the bar, Manhattan screamed day in and day out with back alley rapes and muggings. Wine swished inside the crinkle of brown paper bags on sidewalks where homeless men begged for change. Unshowered drummers beat out patterns on buckets - ‘Even blind men can appreciate a little music.’ The clink of spoons and –swish- lighting of flames in heroin houses, needles piercing skin with a quiet, meaty sound. Prostitutes offered their wares; the slow click of their heels and wafting scent of perfume moved up and down the red light district. Domestic violence – beatings, beratings, and, worst of all, child molestation. The city he loved was rotting from the inside out, and only he knew how much had been eaten away.

For a long time, he had been able to tune this out. Stick trained him well in the art of filtering out stimuli to get to the core of what he needed to know about his surroundings. Sometimes he didn’t even have to use his training; depression would blunt his feelings and senses without any effort at all. Matt found the numbness soothing despite it being accompanied by a whole host of other problems. Win some, lose some.

This, however – Matt didn’t know what it was, but something had ramped up his brain like a roller coaster, negative stimuli bombarding him like wind beating his face. He spent hours in the gym trying to get rid of this foul energy so he could concentrate on school. The skin on his hands was cracked and raw from punching the bag without padding; blood trickled onto his textbooks when he read. Matt was acing all of his exams, but he barely knew what day it was or the last time that he had eaten. The roller coaster was approaching zero gravity and descent, and he just needed to push it there in penance. Hail Mary for a lapsed Catholic.

Matt sat down at the bar, hazily scanning the crowd with his radar to find someone big, intimidating. Three people away to his left – yes. Heavy gait and harsh breathing. Taller than Matt by four inches. BAC 0.1. Bragging loudly about his creepy sexual exploits to small men with jangly bracelets – mostly lies. Thick muscles. In his pocket – a Swiss army knife.

Matt hopped down off the bar stool, grabbed his cane, and tapped over to his target. He could get by fine without it, but it was a very effective method of parting crowds.

“Mind if I cut in?” he said, one hand leaning on his cane. This caused his chest to jut out so he could effectively show off his muscles. Matt wasn’t entirely sure on whether or not his face was handsome, but people really seemed to enjoy his abs and pecs. As expected, the other man’s heart and breathing rate sped up.

“No, man! I was just telling these guys…” he said before he realized the jangly boys had made their escape. Unlike Matt, they weren’t asking for a night full of bad news.

“I heard. When you’re blind, you get great hearing.” He paused for effect. “Your stories really got me hot.”

They really had made Matt want to throw up in his mouth. Thank God he was a good liar.

The guy emitted a faint grunt in pleasure. “Can I buy you a drink?”

He had flunitrazepam in his pocket. Being slipped a roofie might be a good punishment, but it would dull the pain. Matt quirked a smile. “I’ll pass.”

“Maybe we could…take this somewhere a little more private?” The man said, his voice deep and throaty. Matt nodded in response.

The man opted for the bathroom. It was one stall and smelled foul, vomit mixing with shit and cleaning fluid. Water made the floor slick; possibly some of that was waste. He leaned his back against the wall and pressed his palms against the cool surface. There were grooves carved into it – ‘For a good time call-‘ ‘Jim sucks cock.’ The stranger locked the door. Matt faked a look of fear, adrenaline pumping through his chest.

“Whoa, guy. Did you lock the door? I thought we were just gonna talk.”

The guy stomped over, and shoved his hand onto Matt’s chest. “Like fuck you did.” He kissed Matt on the mouth forcefully, and it left a cut there. Tasted like mint – would have been better if he stank. Blood dripped into Matt’s mouth; that was more like it. Matt moaned.

“I knew you wanted it, you slut.”

He tore at Matt’s shirt violently, ripping it to shreds. His hands ran along the hills and valleys of Matt’s abs. It felt too good. Matt stepped on his foot, hard and deliberate.

“Get off!”

The stranger slapped him across the face. One of his thick rings nicked Matt’s cheek, and his glasses flew off of his face.

“We’re done when I say we’re done.”

He kissed Matt again, shoving his tongue so far down Matt’s throat he felt like he was going to choke. All the while, he scratched his long, dirty nails down Matt’s back and stomach. Matt pulled the man’s hair until some of it came off into his hand. It was spiky like fur on a cactus. The man released his suction on Matt’s mouth with a pop.

“Ow! You kinky bitch! That fucking hurt.”

It earned Matt another slap, this time a backhand on the other cheek. Matt shuddered; each hit made the world a little quieter.

The man shoved his hand down Matt’s pants and began rubbing his unlubricated cock. Matt winced at the friction.

“That feels terrible,” he gasped.

“You deserve it,” the stranger breathed into Matt’s mouth. He took his hand out of Matt’s pants, unzipped his own, and dropped them to the floor. Then he pushed Matt to the ground. Water and waste splashed onto Matt’s chest and hands. Matt groaned as he got onto his knees. He had barely recovered when the man twisted his fist into Matt’s hair and pulled his face to his hard cock. “Suck.”

Matt raised his hands to feel where the cock was, but the stranger pushed them away. “You’re not touching my dick with those filthy hands. I’ll tell you where to go.”

The stranger pulled Matt’s hair back to get him to open his mouth, like a deranged Pez machine. He inserted his dick into Matt as far as it would go. It was almost too thick for Matt’s mouth, and it hurt going in. He gagged when it reached his uvula, and that earned him a small kick in the stomach.

“If you puke on my dick, I’ll end you.”

He began to thrust hard in and out of Matt, rough and uncaring as if he were a fleshlight. Precum trickled down Matt’s throat, and tears welled up in his eyes. Matt didn’t want him to cum in his mouth, so after a while he scraped his teeth on the man’s dick. The man pushed him off, yelping in pain, and Matt skidded across the floor again. He got up to his feet, shaking, and unbuttoned his own soaked pants.

“I didn’t let you cum in my mouth because I know you want to cum in my ass. Just…get it over with.”

“Do you have a condom?” the man asked, closing in.

“No, but I’m clean.” He didn’t care if the other man was clean; the risk was all part of his punishment.

The stranger hoisted him up against the wall and, without much preparation, eased his dick into Matt. It was very painful, and Matt cried out. The man put his hand over Matt’s mouth, and began thrusting in and out.

It was over almost as fast as it began; he had been close before, and this just pushed him over the edge. He spilled inside Matt, filling him up, and then pulled forcefully out of him. For the third time, Matt fell to the ground, legs too weak to support him. Cum leaked out of him slowly; everything was quiet. The room became cold.

The stranger threw Matt’s wet jeans and glasses at him with fumbling fingers. Matt heard him pull up his own pants and push down his shirt. The man washed and dried his hands. He dropped a few paper towels into Matt’s lap.

“Clean yourself up,” he said. “Thanks for the lay.”

He left without another word.

Matt gingerly got to his feet, and pulled on his foul jeans. Put his still-dripping glasses on his nose. He didn’t bother cleaning anything up. Instead, he grabbed his cane and made a beeline for the exit.

Outside, the city assaulted him with noise once more. He felt detached from it now, outside of his own body. The soft hum of streetlamps guided his journey home.

He didn’t shower until very early the next morning, after he had slept in his filth from the night before but before anyone could see the disgusting, deserved remnants of what he had done to atone for his guilt.


End file.
